


the show must go on

by huapomme



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Auto-Cannibalism, Innocence Sounding, M/M, Torture, sorry lavi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huapomme/pseuds/huapomme
Summary: Lavi could hear the drumming of fingers on hardwood.  The incessant noise had been going for who knows how long.  It was there when he woke up.He didn’t bother looking up from his awkwardly slumped position.  Lavi knew it was a noah.  It always was.For Rarepair Week 2k17





	the show must go on

**Author's Note:**

> There were a lot more things that I had planned to do to Lavi but i was sadly not able to write them all in this fic bc i kinda lost motivation after having in my wips for so long but I hope you like it! ✨✨

Lavi could hear the drumming of fingers on hardwood.  The incessant noise had been going for who knows how long.  It was there when he woke up.

He didn’t bother looking up from his awkwardly slumped position.  Lavi knew it was a noah.  It always was.

When his eye opened, there was nothing but a sea of darkness.  A blindfold was cutting off any light that dared to try and enter the apprentice’s vision.  The knot dug into his skull but the pain didn’t register.  His other bruises ached so much more.

Suddenly, the drumming stopped.

Lavi did his best to remain still.  Pretend to be asleep.  

When he was unconscious, Lavi didn't have to deal with the pain.  The broken bones and ripping tendons.

Involuntary, Lavi tensed as they strode to stand in front of him.  As they walked, Lavi could hear the sound of something pointed being drug across the wood’s surface.

“Tell me, apprentice,” Sheril Kamelot’s unmistakable voice sounded calmly, “What do I have to do for you tell Bookman to cooperate with us?”

He resisted the urge to tense up further, knowing that this might just save him from the torture at least for a few more minutes.  But in the back of his mind, Lavi knew it was already too late.

Sheril reached down and used his thumb to lift Lavi’s face.  The gentle touch was unnerving but it always was.  And what came next was to be expected.  Lavi knew the noah was smiling as he felt the muscles of his fingers straining, about to break.

Sheril leaned in close to the redhead's ear, low and cold, “Keeping quiet won’t help you, apprentice.”  Then they snapped, cracking and combining with Lavi’s screams.  “Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”

His voice made Lavi  _ sick _ .  It was so repulsive he could feel his stomach turning.  He could imagine the smug, arrogant look on his face with how the words dripped from Sheril’s mouth.  That smile stretched too far to ever be a pleasant sight.  “Go to hell,” Lavi hissed out, trying to ignore his throbbing fingers.

Another scream was torn violently from his throat.  

Lavi’s left leg bent and twisted.  His tibia and fibula cleanly snapping, ripping through his flesh and pants with two loud cracking noises.  Blood drops spattered out across the floor, a few drops landing on Sheril’s clean pressed dress shirt.  Running down slowly, his leg was covered in a glistening scarlet.  The adrenaline of the moment ebbed the pain from overwhelming the exorcist all at once. 

He wanted to scream or claw at the seat, but his hands wouldn’t move.   _ They couldn’t move. _ His fingers stung — misaligned and aching.  Lavi wanted to grab his leg, punch that bastard’s pompous face, run away,  _ anything _ .

“You sullied my wardrobe,”  The noah said evenly.  As he spoke, Lavi could feel a sharp object pressing into the arm of the chair.  It dented in the fabric where it was pushed and ripped the delicate seams.  A small part ghosted the hair on his arm, sending involuntary shivers down his spine.  “Apologize,” Sheril demanded, dragging it down until there was no more armrest to mar.

Lavi smirked through the pain of his hands and leg as he leaned forward and spit.  Sheril scoffed, indicating that the bookman hit his mark if only emotionally.  

He tapped the metal in his hands and spoke with a fury that could no longer be masked, teeth gritted.  “I think it wise of you to apologize.”  Lavi could hear a sharp intake of breath.  Then there was a facade of calm.  “...If you want to keep  _ this  _ that is.”

_ This _ could only be one thing to Lavi. “ _ Keep your fucking hands off my innocence _ ,” he hissed.

The pain was unbearable.  It was hard it tell if it was all blood that trickled down his leg with how much sweat he could feel.  The smell of metal — nauseating iron — permeated the air.  Lavi wanted to gag.

If he got out of this alive what would Allen think or Lenalee?  Would he be able to see, no,  _ face them _ after getting his innocence crushed?  

“Hmm,” Sheril dragged the pointed tip of the hammer across Lavi’s face.  From his chin to the blindfold resting snugly on his face.  He smiled as Lavi panted and bit his lip to reallocate some of the torment he was being forced to endure.

From lightly ghosting the metal, he pushed it against the redhead’s skull, drawing blood as he cut the cloth and his skin.  Lavi clenched his teeth and eyes shut tight — the pressure tearing his bottom lip.  “I’m going to punish you for being disrespectful, apprentice,”  Sheril informed him, “Be grateful.”

When Sheril withdrew, Lavi threw his head back and breathed deeply.  The light was invasive.  It felt blinding as he tried to blink away the after images that danced across his eye.

Lavi tensed more than he thought possible as Sheril’s hand grabbed at the waist of his pants, “W-what… the hell... do you think you’re doing?” He glared between breaths.  Lavi made the mistake of trying to dig his nails into the chair, forgetting for a brief moment that they were mangled and broken.  

He could only watch through clamped teeth and disgust as the noah undid the buckle of his pants.  Sheril looked directly at Lavi and pulled his limp dick out in the open.  “I am going to punish you,” He leered.

The noah’s fingers trailed down from the head of his cock to the base.  Lavi strained back in his seat,  _ absolutely disgusted _ , as he grimaced and closed his eye.  He was going to be sick.  His touches were nauseous.  

They always were.

That’s why Sheril did it.  Seeing the future bookman debilitated and weak, unable to stop something as little as his cock being played with was well worth getting his hands dirty.  

Lavi tried to keep a moan from escaping his lips as his fingers curled around to pump him at an agonizingly  _ slow _ pace.  “Stop,” he choked out.  The pain was more than enough but the humiliation made him more queasy than he ever wanted to be.  “P-please.”

Sheril whispered low and deep, “Don’t think you can tell me what to do.”  He gripped harder but didn’t move his hand.  Instead, he took the hammer and spun it around in thought.  After laying eyes on it and smirking so far his jaw looked like it would fall off he decided on a proper punishment.  

Preventing Lavi from moving, Sheril took the handle of his innocence and probed it against his urethral meatus.  His eye snapped open to look at what was going on as soon as he felt the cold metal touch him.  The angle of his head prevented him from seeing what was resting awkwardly on his head.  “Please, don’t,” he repeated.

“You’re right,” he laughed, “It won’t go in easily without something on it.”  Lavi gulped as sweat dripped down his neck, cold and terrifying.  He made it worse.  “You can be good and hold this for me while I go find something to make this process easier for the two of us.”

Sheril smiled as he took the sharp edge of the hammer and brought it down against the back of Lavi’s trembling left hand.  He screamed as it tore through his flesh, scraping along the bone in his hand — the metacarpals straining not to be pushed aside as more iron flooded into his nostrils. “Aaargh,” Lavi panted as he tried to stop crying.  To stop looking so  _ weak and helpless. _

Lavi couldn’t even register Sheril leaving through the pain of it all.  His ears were ringing and his body was shaking.  But he could move his head— at least he could move now.  

He turned his head to see what had happened to his hand only to face his innocence protruding from his hand, bloody and red.  His stomach heaved, the taste of bile filling his mouth before he choked it back.  Maybe the blindfold would have made it better, not having to look at his own mangled body.

Now was not the time to get choked up.

Lavi bit his lip and winced.  Where it ripped earlier, stung but it was the only thing could use to keep his voice down as he attempted to use his right hand.  His broken fingers could barely hold on to the handle.  “Fuck,”  He said under his breath.  

The shaking of his hand only worsened the pain and prevented him from pulling the damn thing out.  All he could do was wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and try not to move.  All his could do was cry and shiver.

It was so cold.  How much blood had he lost for his heart to feel like a drum?

His shaky breaths didn’t help anything.  Not to calm him down or stop him from feeling like he was about to die.

“Knock, knock,” Sheril said laughing as he walked back in.  The heels of his shoes clacked across the floor and all the bookman could do was seize up—  _ petrified.   _ When the noah reached him, tall and looming, the first thing he did was wrap his hands around the hammer and  _ yank. _

It was excruciating.  Lavi could feel the muscles tearing and shredding, blood dripping down his fingers.  Unable to process that it was his hand he was looking at, he just gaped at the hole in his hand. 

Sheril didn’t mind.  He quite liked seeing the stunned face on the teen.  Accompanied by the shaking and the blood.  The fear was breathtaking.  “As much as it joys me to see you so helpless,” he smirked, “the show must go on.”  

In a swift moment, Sheril opened the bottle of lubricant he had retrieved.  The contents were generously poured on the handle of the innocence.  Lavi’s face contorted in confusion to what was happening before him.  Then his face paled in realization.

“No, you can’t possibly think of using that!” Lavi started.  He couldn't finish as Sheril took the cloth, previously around his eyes, and shoved it into the apprentice’s mouth, trying all the while to beg for him to stop.  Saying  _ anything but this  _ — but it was too late.  

Sheril had made up his mind.

With little warning, only a sly gut-churning grin, the noah shoved the cold wet metal into Lavi’s cock. He closed his eyes tight, feeling it slide down, surely ripping tissue as the tears ran down his face.  

His ears rang and he tried to scream despite it being muffled.  Someone, anyone must feel sorry for him if they only knew.  His body ached and quivered as he dared to open his eyes once more — vision hazy.

With a shaky hand, he tried to reach out and take his innocence back.  It was so close _ , too close  _ even.  But Sheril wouldn’t let him move any longer, just laughing at him like a sick taunt.  It made Lavi want to throw up.  “Careful,” he cooed, “or I might put it in too far.  You are so  _ small _ after all.”

Lavi wanted to fight back, grimace, something to show the noah that he hadn’t won.  But he had no strength to fight back.  He was pathetic and weak so so  _ weak  _ as the noah did what he wanted.  When Sheril moved his hands against his dick it felt so wrong and painful but yet somehow it felt good and that made Lavi more disgusted above all else.

“If your friends could see you now…” He whispered in his ear. “I wonder what they would say.”  Then he took his hands away and ripped the cloth out.  Lavi moaned — out of pain or reluctance he couldn’t tell.  “You can clean up and go to them if you do something for me.”  Sheril traced his index finger up Lavi’s neck to his jaw.

“R-really?”  Lavi asked warily.  He couldn’t process that what he heard was real.  Only how cold he was and how humiliated and degraded he felt.

Sheril reached down to the open wound of the bookman’s leg, covered in blood.  Then his mouth twitched, holding back a look of disgust as he reached between the skin and muscle.  Lavi screamed as his fingers squished the soft skin, the squelching sound diminishing as he tore the flesh off — more crimson liquid trickling down.  

He shook, his breath hitching as the shiny, red mound was brought to his face.  “Eat it,” Sheril smiled.  His mouth quivered as he hesitantly nodded, if this is what he had to do to be free, for this to all be over...

It was held firmly to his lips— blood smearing across his face and dripping down from how saturated it was.  He bit down brutally, choking on his own bile that couldn’t help but rise from his throat.  His mouth was overtaken, engorged by the heated, metallic juices that began to emerge as he tried to chew. Salty taste mixed in as he tried to swallow despite his body’s resistance to the forbidden meal.  The smell of blood filled his nostrils as laughter filled his ears.

He wanted to die.

Letting the crisp air pervade over his mouth he bit more off— harder this time, desperate to go home.  Lavi showered his cheeks with its secretions and the knowledge of how  _ wrong  _ this was filled his head.  The thought of leaving that place was the only thing driving him.  As the blood dribbled down his chin and throat he threw his head back, hoping it would go down faster — hoping that it wouldn’t come back up.  He sobbed as Sheril shoved the remaining raw flesh into his mouth.

It was disgusting.  The fat and muscle harder to chew than the soft outer skin.  He tried to go faster but bit the inside of his mouth.  It was impossible to tell if he was eating that tissue as he forced himself to swallow again, unable to stand the taste of himself.

Sputtering and choking, Lavi gasped for air as it slid down.  He panted but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.  Only the taste of blood lingered in his mouth as he sat there covered in it.

Sheril raised an eyebrow and harshly pulled the hammer out before tossing it aside.  “I’ll be back later,” he said off-handed.  As he turned to leave he stopped, remembering to fix Lavi’s misplaced bones.  “Right.”  He moved them all at once, causing pain to seer through the redhead’s body.

“Wait,” Lavi called as Sheril leisurely walked away.  “You have to let me go.”  He tried to move forward and fell off the chair onto his side — every part of him throbbing.  His vision was blurring more.

The noah clicked his nails against the doorframe in contemplation— mocking him.  “I don’t remember promising you anything.”  


End file.
